Unspoken
by yaoi-lover13
Summary: For the second round of that GrimmUlqui fanfiction contest. Prompt: Middle Ages Two sided, unspoken love. GrimmUlqui, implied manXman sex


Grimmjow's POV-

"Sir Grimmjow!" A silky voice rang out. "King Aizen has requested court with the Espada."

I sighed in aggravation. "I'll be there, Yylfordt." With that, I dismissed the underling.

Another fuckin' court? Really? His 'King' must be getting pretty tense before the coming battle with his rival kingdom.

As I set out from my rooms, I pondered the reason I even went. My original reason for joining that damn man was simple- Power.

When the fliers had gone around announcing the defection of the lower royal Sousuke Aizen and his servants from the Soul Kingdom, most were appalled. Some, like me, were curious to see the royal's plans and followed him to the badlands of Hueco Mundo, where he proceeded to build his own little kingdom.

As soon as that was established, he called for all him followers and started determining ranks. For the top ten, he promised infinite power and fame. I had achieved the rank of sixth, though I was still waiting for King Aizen to fulfill his promises.

I had gotten so bored in the year we had been assembled that I pondered defecting from the defects.

Then _he_ came along. Ulquiorra Schiffer. The eighteen year old with ebony black hair and eyes colored like emeralds, faceted in the smooth, near-unblemished white skin.

_Near_ unblemished. From the rumors, the slight man who had suddenly appeared one day on the doorstep had a horrible past, worse than my own, even. Ulquiorra's mother had died during his birthing, though he lived. His father had fallen into a deep depression, maniacal by his son's fourteenth birthday. One day Ulquiorra had decided that he'd rather fawn over an injured bat that had caught his fancy rather than mucking the stalls.

His father had caught him and tied him up, taking Ulquiorra to the kiln where he blew glass for a living. He pulled a hunting knife from his belt and slowly heated the blade until it was white-hot. The fourteen year old had watched with fearful eyes, tears flowing down his cheeks as his father approached.

'I'll give you something to cry about.' His father had snarled as he traced the path of his son's tears with the blade, cutting and cauterizing at the same time, leaving harsh scars in the form of single tear tracks down each side of the boy's face.

The maniacal man had taken his own life not long after, leaving Ulquiorra tied up to be found two days later, passed out from exhaustion.

…

Or so the rumors went. Whether or not it was true, the scars stood in stark contrast to his smooth skin, slightly raised, though the lines were smooth and confidently cut.

As soon as I laid eyes on the short teenager, I was caught.

I watched during every meeting, how Ulquiorra stayed completely focused, never uttering a word unless it was to accept an assignment, all of which he completed without fail.

I watched how those emeralds seemed to stay dull and lifeless, and how no speck of emotion passed over his face. Ever.

As I watched, I yearned- yearned to touch the smooth skin along the young man's jaw, to run my sword-calloused finger over the scars that marred that doll-like face. I wanted to touch Ulquiorra, to feel the wiry muscle twitch and shudder under my exploration. But most of all, I yearned to make the young man _feel_.

I wanted to see _something_ flash through those captivating orbs. I wanted the slightest twitch of those pale lips. A lift or lilt in the monotone voice. If I was feeling adventurous, I might even wish to see a soft, rose colored blush stain those colorless cheeks.

I yearned that Ulquiorra would love me back.

I had spent countless hours tossing in my bed, trying and failing to keep my mind off Ulquiorra.

After a hard training session, when I was still wired from an aftershock of adrenaline, my mind would wander to less… Virtuous thoughts of the other knight.

How I'd like to see a haze of arousal in those eyes as they stared, half-lidded. How I'd like to see those lips part, Ulquiorra's honey tenor of a voice ring out in an unintelligible moan. A blush spread so… _Encouragingly_ over his face, interrupted by a slight discoloration under the scars.

I imagined how unbelievably _tight_ Ulquiorra would be. How unbearably _hot_.

The images my imagination conjured drove me to my climax every time, while at the same time making my own rough hand seem completely inadequate.

Back in reality, I found himself willing away my growing arousal as I approached the meeting room.

I was undoubtedly late, but I didn't care at the moment. It may even work to my advantage. When I walked in, those emerald eyes might even glance up to meet my own cerulean orbs.

That thought in mind, I walked in, stance and pace emitting cockiness and detachment.

"How nice for you to join us, Sir Grimmjow." King Aizen greeted, his warm, fake smile in place as his chocolate eyes searched for a reaction from me. But I had no care for the defected royal at the moment.

My eyes stayed trained on Ulquiorra, who, to my great disappointment and exasperation, never glanced up, instead opting to close his eyes, head pointed away.

I took my seat opposite the oblivious object of my affections, now in a much more tense, angry mood then when I had entered, my aura promising physical pain to anyone who dared to try to establish contact with me.

Ulquiorra's POV-

As I walked in, I was rather disappointed to see that _he_ wasn't here yet. I had purposely come in later than usual to make sure he noticed me, and he wasn't even _there_ yet. So much for that idea.

I kept my calm, emotionless face as I took my seat near where King Aizen would sit. Directly across from where Grimmjow Jaegarjaques would sit.

Grimmjow. That name that made me want to dismember the nearest person while at the same time making me want to shiver with excitement. The man I wanted to cut and caress at the same time. The man I loathed, hated, tolerated, admired, loved…

The man that could never return my feelings.

That thought burned worse than the phantom pain in my scars.

The meeting had started while I pondered, and as that thought bounced around my head, the cause of my turmoil strutted in cockily. I had to shut my eyes and turn my head away so his piercing, sapphire-like eyes wouldn't find the need, the confusion, the _desire_ I knew was buried deeply in my own green eyes.

I could feel his aura turning from condescending to murderously angry and introverted as he took his place, and couldn't help but wonder what set him off.


End file.
